


How Many Forevers?

by chocochurros



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 05:28:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12698310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocochurros/pseuds/chocochurros
Summary: A poem about Jefferson Rock. Written May 31st, 2017, finished/transformed into a poem June 18th, 2017. Warning: incredibly pretentious capitalization for the sake of emphasis.





	How Many Forevers?

all mouths are Silent.  
all that can be heard is the  
Rustling of the trees,  
the Gentle, Rumbling Hiss of both Cascading rivers,  
and the Peaceful Shifting of trucks on the road.  
somehow, something so  
Hurried  
and  
Rushed  
manages to sound  
Tranquil.  
it is  
Constant.  
Unchanging.  
there is also the sound of the  
Old train passing  
\- clickety-clacking, in theory, but more Thoompety-Thoomping,  
Bearing its passengers to some Veiled place or other.  
the passengers Know Not of our Existence,  
nor we of them  
\- Who they are,  
Where they are going,  
or  
Why.  
we sit for a time in Reverence,  
Absorbing.  
and now the  
Ancient bell  
in the town Below peals a  
Nostalgic ring  
of  
'one...two....three...four....five....six....seven....eight....nine...ten.....eleven,'  
bringing us Back to days centuries Ago,  
when the  
Very Same bell  
sang the  
Very Same Uninterrupted song  
for  
Very Different people  
in a Very Different time.  
how many elevens have Rung out Since then,  
Not Caring who was there to Hear them?  
did these Great, Majestic mountains Notice  
when a road was Carved into them,  
upon which trucks and cars Now Rush?  
did they Know what it Meant -  
that times Were Changing?  
Have Changed?  
Are Changing?  
that One Day,  
we would be Here,  
thinking of days we'd Never get To See,  
in Rapture,  
in Wonder,  
but were Barely a  
Standard,  
Drab  
Blink of a metaphorical eye  
To Them?

birds chirp, too,  
Joyfully  
and  
Contentedly.  
one could Spend a Forever up here.  
the temperature is Sublime -  
slightly brisk, in the most  
Comfortable  
and  
Refreshing way imaginable.  
also refreshing are the minuscule droplets of Mist-Water,  
Whizzing through the air,  
Hurried  
And  
Frantic;  
this way and that  
until its tiny,  
Short-Lived  
collision with one's skin.  
and all seems at Peace.

Slowly, the air is once again  
Filled  
with the  
Murmur of voices;  
Children Calling, Adults conferring more Softly.  
one can  
Almost Imagine  
Jefferson's  
Calm Presence  
from  
Beyond the Grave,  
perhaps watching us -  
the Children of His Nation -  
Fondly in our  
Carefree Playfulness  
at a place of such  
Strange  
and  
Inexplicable  
seeming Significance.  
one can Imagine him standing in  
this very Spot  
so Long Ago,  
note-taking Just As We Are  
Presently,  
Diligent,  
in the Presence of something  
much Bigger than himself,  
than us,  
than all of us,  
both literally and metaphorically.  
Something About the Regal mountains  
and the two Unapologetically Fantastic rivers  
Exudes  
a Humbling air,  
putting everything into Perspective.  
Something About the river to the left -  
the Potomac -  
speaks of Ancient Knowledge,  
the Unshaking Assurance that it Will be There,  
that it Will Continue on,  
Long After I and these words are dead and Gone,  
Not a Trace Left Behind  
for anyone to Remember;  
Forgotten Dust.  
it just Doesn't Care.  
for it seeming so Wise and all-Knowing,  
it also is  
Oblivious  
at the same time -  
it simply Does Not Care about any of us,  
Why we're here,  
or What will Happen to us,  
or to itself, even,  
After this Fleeting Present.  
it just Continues to be, in Whatever form that is.  
the thought is almost Soothing.  
the river to the right -  
the Shenandoah, its Brother -  
Whispers, too, of  
Indifferent  
and  
Superior age,  
but also of  
Change.  
It is more Versatile, more narrow.  
It Stretches  
into the Beyond.  
in all of our Silly jokes and Laughing,  
we gaze upon a  
Fossil of Bygone days -  
a Solitary rock that  
Aches to Speak of what it's Seen.  
But we can Only Imagine.

How many Forevers will it Spend here?


End file.
